


Ill Met by Fistfight

by Mighty_Ant



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Canon Bisexual Character, Darkwing’s cameo expanded, Established Relationship, Found Family, M/M, Minor Injuries, Post-Escape from the Impossibin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:42:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27242137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mighty_Ant/pseuds/Mighty_Ant
Summary: Drake comes out of his confrontation with Steelbeak worse off than he realized.
Relationships: Drake Mallard & Launchpad McQuack, Drake Mallard/Launchpad McQuack
Comments: 15
Kudos: 208





	Ill Met by Fistfight

The first sign that something’s amiss is the Ratcatcher, its front fender twisted and warped against the railing in a crash nearly worthy of Launchpad himself. 

The second is the silence pervading the tower; not the sort that delineates emptiness, but instead makes the high ceilings themselves feel as though they’re holding their breath. 

Gosalyn bounds out of the elevator unawares, clutching her bag of takeout. “Hey, Drake!” she shouts, revelling in the echo and Drake’s inevitable insistence that she use her indoor voice. “We picked up Hamburger Hippo! I definitely didn’t eat your fries on the drive over.”

From across the room Launchpad can see Drake huddled in front of W.A.N.D.A.’s giant, darkened screen, though he doesn’t stand or turn to greet them. “Oh!” Drake exclaims, in the high voice that comes out when he’s been taken by surprise but doesn’t want anyone to think he was. “You guys are back early.”

Gosalyn scoffs. “Yeah right. How long have you been sitting in front of the computer? The sun went down hours ago.” She strolls around to the opposite side of the lair with Launchpad following just a pace behind, unsure how to feel about the wariness settling uncomfortably on his shoulders. 

“Ah, right, right, right,” Drake replies, hands moving busily and silently in front of him. With his back to them and the wide brim of his hat further obscuring him, Launchpad can’t tell what he’s fiddling with. “How’d shopping go?” 

“Pretty good I think,” Launchpad says. He watches Drake’s shoulders flinch at the sound of his voice with no small amount of concern. “We got enough junk food for ten kids.”

Gosalyn falters at Launchpad’s lie, looking back at him in confusion. With her starting the school year so late, she and Launchpad had gone out to buy class supplies and a new hockey uniform while Drake filled out the last of her enrollment paperwork. In spite of that, his response is a distracted, “Good, good.” 

“Is it?” Gosalyn says quizzically. 

“Drake,” Launchpad begins as they finally reach the computer bank. “You okay?” 

He hears the plastic click of something being closed and watches Drake purposely relax the hitching line of his shoulders. He tilts his head back just enough that a majority of it remains in shadow. “Course I’m okay. Were you and Gos able to find the right uniform?”

This close, Launchpad can see the jagged tear in the fabric of Drake’s uniform, an impressive feat considering it’s made of kevlar polymer. His stomach sinks as he crouches beside Drake, who tenses again at his proximity. But Drake surrenders with a halfhearted sigh as Launchpad reaches up and pulls the hat off his head. 

Gosalyn gasps behind them. 

Drake’s removed his mask, but only to begin hiding a lurid black eye with concealer. A bruise that’s nearly as dark decorates his opposite temple, and there are bandages on his top and bottom bill sealing fresh cracks. 

Wincing under their scrutiny, Drake says, “I lost track of time,” his tone verging on wry. He drops something on the table with a rattling clatter—a makeup compact. 

“Drake, w-what happened?” Launchpad says, confused and aghast, setting his hat aside to clutch gently at his hand. 

“How did you get _this_ beat up? We were barely gone a few hours,” Gosalyn demands. Her eyes, wide with alarm, and the way she stands stock still bely her acerbity. Gosalyn’s reaction doesn’t surprise Launchpad, for all that his heart goes out to her. She has never seen Drake hurt like this before; not even when he faced the Fearsome Four and Bulba did he come off quite so badly. 

Drake’s hand becomes whiteknuckled in Launchpad’s grip. He stares hard at the edge of the computer console instead of looking up at either of them. “There was a break-in,” he intones, with a gravity that makes Launchpad’s stomach drop even further, if possible. “At McDuck Labs. It was-it had to be that F.O.W.L. McDuck warned us about. They…” Drake tears his gaze up to meet Gosalyn’s through his unswollen eye. “They stole the plans for the Solego circuit.”

“What does that mean for my grandpa?” she asks very quietly. 

Drake swallows tightly and Launchpad feels his pulse race under his hand. “I-I’m not sure, Gos. Fenton has a copy of the schematics, he understands what went wrong, and now they do too. But-but I don’t want you to worry. This doesn’t change anything, you hear me?” he says fiercely, leaning forward with a grunt of pain. “I made you a promise. We’re still getting your grandpa back, no matter what. I’m not giving—”

Gosalyn dives forward, wrapping her arms around Drake’s middle in the first embrace she’s ever given him. 

He opens his arms to her in a way that seems practically instinctual, clutching her back with one hand even as his entire body buckles. _“Hachacha,”_ he hisses, smiling through gritted teeth. “Watch the ribs, kid.”

“Thank you,” she murmurs against Drake’s uniform, making him jolt. “For everything. I’m...I’m sorry I never told you that before.”

Launchpad wraps his free arm around Gosalyn, taking some of her weight now that he knows Drake is every bit as injured as he looks. He covers Drake’s other hand with his own and meets his lost expression over Gosalyn’s curly hair with a reassuring smile that couldn’t begin to betray the depth of his feeling for this stubborn, beatendown hero. 

Drake meets Launchpad’s smile with a wobbly one of his own as he briefly tightens his embrace around Gosalyn despite the strain it must put on his ribs. “You don’t have to thank me,” he says.

 _“Pft._ Sure,” she retorts, carefully releasing him. “What were you gonna do, just cover your face with makeup and pretend you were fine?”

Drake winks tiredly, though the effect is rather lost with his one unswollen eye. “That was the plan.”

“What happened?” Launchpad asks. 

“I realized that I can’t get out of this chair,” Drake says, chuckling hoarsely. 

Launchpad rises slightly. “Well you’re not doing yourself any favors sitting here,” he says, making to lift Drake out of his seat. “Can you wrap your arms around my neck?”

Drake’s face goes pink. “I-I don’t—LP, you don’t have to—” 

He cuts himself off with a squeak as Launchpad scoops him up, tucking one arm around Drake’s shoulders and the other beneath his bent knees. While Drake might be wiry, he isn’t a tall man, though Launchpad only seems to remember that when he has him in his arms. 

“Gos, can you get the first aid kit?” Launchpad says as he begins taking careful steps toward the common area. 

She rubs her eyes surreptitiously on the back of her sleeve. “Yeah, no problem,” she says at once, running off. 

“How bad is it? Really?” Launchpad asks quietly as he approaches the couch. 

Drake starts to sigh but winces halfway through. “Nothing’s broken,” he says, his cheeks losing some of their crimson stain as he stares resolutely at Launchpad’s shoulder. “But whatever bruiser F.O.W.L. sent certainly packed a punch. He kept me busy the entire time these egghead guys were stealing the plans.” Launchpad sets him down on the couch and he relaxes into the cushions with a groan. “I called McDuck just before you two got back.”

Launchpad sits down beside Drake’s hip and reaches up, sweeping a few messy strands of hair out of his forehead. “You could’ve called _us,”_ he presses, as his hand moves down to cradle Drake’s cheek, his thumb lingering delicately beside his bruised eye. 

Drake closes his uninjured eye as a renewed blush races across his beak. “Don’t give me that look,” he says. “You two were having a good time. And I didn’t realize who I was dealing with until I was in the thick of it.” He opens his eye in a squint. “You and Gos did have a good time didn’t you?”

Launchpad chuckles gently. “We did. She’s a great kid, Drake.” 

“Yeah, she is,” Drake murmurs as Gosalyn bustles back over to them, carrying their industrial sized first aid kit. She drops it on the coffee table with an unceremonious _thud._

“How’s the patient?” Gosalyn asks, but the humor in her voice falls flat. She wrings her hands in front of her for a moment before she becomes aware of the movement and stuffs her fists into the pockets of her jacket. 

Drake groans, long and dramatic. Launchpad is sure that if he had the energy, he would throw one of his arms over his face for good measure. “He’ll be better once he has some painkillers,” Drake replies, sneaking a smile Gosalyn’s way. Undoubtedly he’d noticed her uncharacteristic nervousness as well. “Believe it or not, I probably got worse beatings from my childhood bullies.” 

“Shocker,” Gosalyn retorts with a small grin, “I bet you went to school in a cape and everything.”

Drake barks a laugh and immediately groans. “I did!” he wheezes. 

“Why don’t you pick out something to watch, Gos,” Launchpad says as he presses a few tablets of aspirin into Drake’s palm. “DW isn’t going anywhere, and you and I can keep him company.”

Gosalyn scrutinizes them suspiciously. “Do we have to watch Darkwing Duck or can I pick a real movie?”

“Hey!” Drake protests once he’s swallowed the tablets dry. 

Launchpad activates a cold pack and nudges Drake until he holds it over his black eye. “Whatever you want, kiddo,” Launchpad replies, “just, uh, nothing scary all right?”

Gosalyn hops into the armchair and turns on the television to start scrolling through Webflix. Once she’s sufficiently distracted, bar the glances she keeps throwing at Drake over her shoulder, Launchpad turns back to him. “Think you can get the uniform off, or should we cut through it?”

Drake pouts with a huff. “I hate to waste a perfectly good costume but I don’t think I can raise my arms over my head anymore.”

“No problemo, DW,” Launchpad replies. He fishes around in the first aid kit and takes out a hefty pair of scissors intended for the hyper durability of the Darkwing costume. He steadily cuts through the top layer of the suit, revealing the blue short-sleeve compression turtleneck beneath. Drake closes his eyes as Launchpad works, the unbroken sound of the scissors slicing through fabric overshadowed by the opening score of the movie Gosalyn has finally settled on. 

With the heavy duty layer of the suit removed, Launchpad gathers a handful of cold packs from the first aid kit to bundle around Drake’s ribs. But he stops Launchpad with a hand on his knee. 

“The Solego plans weren’t the only thing stolen tonight,” Drake murmurs out of Gosalyn’s earshot. “If...if you need to get back to Duckburg tonight, we’ll understand.”

Launchpad blinks down at Drake, laid up and bruised, gaze imploring through his one eye. Exasperation and overwhelming fondness momentarily silences him, and he covers Drake’s hand with his own. 

“If Mr. McDee calls, I’ll be there. But ignoring the fact that you can’t stand right now, I’m not going anywhere until you tell me to. “

“Well that’s never going to happen,” Drake huffs, closing his eye again. Smiling, Launchpad lowers his head to drop a quick kiss on the end of Drake’s beak. He leans back but doesn’t get far with Drake’s other hand fisted in the bottom of his shirt. Drake’s face is the pastel pink of a sunset and Launchpad takes a moment to admire it before he meets Drake’s beak for a longer kiss. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm really looking forward to writing more of this family now that they're dynamic has been introduced, so if you enjoyed this story please leave a comment below!


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